People Are Vomiting Unrealistically In Movies, And

My Books Are Not Really Books; Theyre Endless Chains Of Distraction Shoved Inside A Cover. Many Of Them Begin At The Search Box Of Pub Med, An Internet Database Of Medical Journal Articles.

I Am Very Much Out Of My Element Here. There Are Moments, Listening To The Conversations Going On Around Me, When I Feel I Am Going To Lose My Mind. Earlier Today, I Heard Someone Say The Words, "i Felt At One With The Divine Source Of Creation." Mary Roach On A Conducted Tour Of Hades. I Had To Fight The Urge To Push Back My Chair And Start Screaming: Stand Back! All Of You! I've Got An Arthur Findlay Box Cutter! Instead, I Quietly Excused Myself And Went To The Bar, To Commune With Spirits I Know How To Relate To.

For The Scientists, They're Kind Of Puzzled And Pleased That Somebody Finds Their Work Interesting. It Makes It Fun For Me. I Feel Like I've Sort Of Turned Over A Stone That Hasn't Been Turned Over.

Instead, I Quietly Excused Myself And Went To The Bar, To Commune With Spirits I Know How To Relate To.

All The Clothes In My Closet Are Oakland, California, Clothes. You Can't Wear Those Anywhere Else. The Barometric Pressure Drops And Then Where Are You?